


prix fixe

by unhinged (anti60ne)



Category: EXO (Band), Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Horror, Angst, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Crossover, Fluff, Ghouls, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anti60ne/pseuds/unhinged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>baekhyun learns the hard way how deceiving appearances can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	prix fixe

**Author's Note:**

> ✚prompted by gio for her birthday but eventually turned self-indulgent because i love writing violence more than i should 
> 
> ✚it would help if you know what the anime/manga is about, but you don't have to (i think)
> 
> ✚thanks to L for the beta even though you were completely unfamiliar with TG♥

  
Baekhyun would never admit it, but there is something that fascinates him more than books. Neither would he confess to anyone that this something is in fact a person. A crush…..if he ever surrenders to the flutters inside his chest whenever he chances upon a hint of interaction with this person.  
  
This person has a name. His name is Jongin.  
  
At the end of the day, he begrudgingly defines his feeling as like at first sight. Like, because Baekhyun doesn't believe in love at first sight, being the cynic he is in that department of matters. Growing up, he's used to being left behind, abandoned, neglected – by his parents who both fell victim to ghouls when he was ten; by his classmates who saw him as a reticent freak who kept to himself, immersed in literature – stories offer him an alternate reality, albeit fantastical and temporary. Fiction gives him a place where he can stop mourning his parents and dwelling on the fact that he can’t do anything to avenge their death.  
  
By the time he’s a university student, Baekhyun has grown indifferent to loneliness. Shutting people out is not just a coping mechanism but a way of life, his heart impenetrable by the kindest of acts. The single exception is Dr. Kim Junmyeon, who operated on him and practically saved his life after Baekhyun was assaulted by a ghoul last week. After waking up from anesthesia, Baekhyun was not told much, aside from how he survived. He was still breathing when the fire department came and rushed him to the city hospital, but he would have died if Dr. Kim hadn’t decided on an organ transplant at the very last minute.  
  
He gets discharged from the hospital today. Before he leaves, Baekhyun seeks out Dr. Kim, thanking him with a 90-degree bow. The physician leaves Baekhyun with his business card and asks him to call if he needs anything, then sends him home with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his bespectacled eyes.  
  
Baekhyun doesn’t think much of it. He’s just glad he can finally go home.  
  
Walking through the 22nd Ward, Baekhyun thinks about his liver that used to be inside someone else’s body, and he grows indignant and bitter. Was it not enough that the ghouls took away his parents, that they tried to kill him too?  
  
He only stops fuming when he passes the Antique Café in the 21st Ward and Jongin’s face pops up in his head.  
  
  
  
Jongin is a barista at Antique, where Baekhyun frequents; less for its quaint selection of exquisite pastries than for this particular table with the comfiest chair. The spot is tucked away in a corner of the café, shielded partly by a wall from noises in the main patronage area.  
  
Jongin is another reason that Baekhyun looks forward to afternoons he’s reserved for visiting Antique, a book or two sitting in his messenger bag. From the moment Baekhyun set eyes on Jongin, he’s never seen the barista without smiles. The tall, lanky boy always greets customers with a pleasant grin that has the same effect as seeing the sun emerge on a cloudy day.  
  
It’s become natural for Baekhyun to steer clear of people, but there's something about Jongin that draws him near and he becomes unfathomably enthralled, like a moth is with fire.  
  
And Baekhyun would be lying if he said his heart doesn’t thrum erratically when Jongin greets him enthusiastically when he walks in.  
  
  
  
It's another busy day at Antique and Baekhyun heads straight to his usual spot after getting his usual, an Americano. He’s a little disappointed that Jongin was taking orders at a table by the windows when he went up to the counter, but he quickly shakes it off and reprimands himself. Jongin doesn’t even know who he is. This crush is starting to get out of hand. He forces himself to focus on his book—the second installment of _The Hunger Games._ He’s glad that he had decided to pick it up at the bookstore adjacent to the hospital.  
  
Baekhyun sips his drink slowly, eyes transfixed on the pages before him. He is so absorbed in the story that he doesn't notice someone standing by the table.  
  
“More coffee?”

Baekhyun snaps his head up at the voice. He is met by a warm smile that reaches eyes in the shape of lovely crescents. Baekhyun blinks rapidly, suddenly flustered that the gorgeous barista is speaking to him.  
  
“Uh…” Baekhyun stutters, barely catching his own voice. “S-sure.”  
  
With trembling hands he picks up his cup, an unnecessary gesture. Jongin chuckles softly and takes the cup, fingers brushing past Baekhyun’s. Baekhyun swallows a gasp as the contact fires tingles through his core. He watches Jongin refill his coffee, tries to keep his eyes focused on the stream of black liquid pouring into the cup rather than the hand holding the cup steady; he fails as the golden skin monopolizes his vision.  
  
Baekhyun mumbles thanks, nose buried in his book as he doesn’t dare to meet Jongin’s eyes. His cheeks feel like they are past boiling point. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Jongin raise the kettle and turn away from the table. Baekhyun tugs his lower lip in; he feels like he should at least return Jongin’s smile (even though his rendition wouldn’t ever be half as dazzling), but old habits die hard. It’s not something he does, smiling at people. So he keeps his head down, eyes skirting over inked lines aimlessly.  
  
“ _Catching Fire_?” Jongin remarks and Baekhyun whips his head up, surprise filling his wide eyes. Jongin peers into the cover of the book in Baekhyun’s hands, a faint smile tucked in the corner of his lips. It spreads wider when he shifts his gaze to Baekhyun. “I loved this book.”  
  
“You did?” Baekhyun’s voice comes out nearly as a squeak and he coughs to redeem himself. He never receives comments on the books he reads, even in passing. Not because he has a penchant for obscure authors, but because most people don’t pay attention to him or anything he does. He’s used to people treating him like the wallpaper, indistinct and unworthy of notice.  
  
“Yeah. Suzanne Collins is one of my favorite authors, actually,” says Jongin. He sets the kettle on the table before slotting his hands into the apron pockets. “The whole trilogy is sheer brilliance.” He looks somewhere past Baekhyun, eyes slightly glossy as if reminiscing the story.  
  
Baekhyun opens his mouth to say something (though he doesn’t know what) when someone calls Jongin’s name from behind the counter. Baekhyun closes his mouth, lips unknowingly pursed into a line when Jongin picks up the kettle hurriedly.  
  
“Sorry, duty calls,” says Jongin with an apologetic frown, glancing behind his shoulders. “We should chat more about this. But enjoy your book, Baekhyun-sshi.” With a slight nod and a reserved smile, Jongin walks away, leaving Baekhyun in a daze.  
  
As he resumes reading, Baekhyun fights the aftereffects of the barista’s smile as they dance in the back of his eyelids.  
  
It doesn’t occur to him until after he turns another page that Jongin had known his name. He shrugs it off, jostles the nagging question aside even though it makes no sense. Maybe Jongin is just keenly observant and has heard his name in passing on campus; they do go to the same university. (It’s a fact that Baekhyun inadvertently learned due to Jongin’s immense popularity). But then, no one pays attention to Baekhyun. The majority of students probably don’t even know he exists.  
  
But maybe Jongin isn’t like the majority. Maybe he’s different.  
  
  
  
Baekhyun starts to realize how different Jongin is when the taller boy approaches him again a little while later. He had been nearing the end of the novel and almost let out a yelp when he closes the book, raises his head and sees Jongin seated across the table, watching him intently. Jongin bursts into laughter and Baekhyun would have felt self-conscious if not for the boyish, melodious sound chiming against his ears. He flushes, tendrils of anxiety coiling into his stomach.  
  
“You scared me,” Baekhyun chides softly, brows scrunched into a small frown. Jongin’s laughter subsides into good-humored chuckles and Baekhyun has already forgiven him. His heart leaps high and tumbles inside his chest as he struggles to seek and hide from Jongin’s twinkling eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry,” says Jongin sans any hint of repentance. Baekhyun is too distracted by his smile to call him out. “You finished?” Jongin flicks a look over at the novel under Baekhyun’s hand. Baekhyun nods. “What’d you think of it?”  
  
Baekhyun’s answer to that question unfolds slowly. When he finally notices that the skies have greyed out, soft splashes of blood orange sketched across the horizons, their conversation takes a slight detour from Suzanne Collins and her works. He learns that Jongin is a culinary major with a concentration in French pastries. Jongin’s eyes sparkle when he speaks of his dream—apprenticing in Paris and opening a patisserie—and Baekhyun thinks he’s never seen anything this beautiful.  
  
Time seems to sprint and slow simultaneously with Jongin seated before him, coaxing out of him thoughts that had lain dormant in his mind. He’s never felt this comfortable around a stranger, though by now Jongin is far from a stranger, more like a friend Baekhyun didn’t know he had made. It feels like Jongin makes it all too easy—speaking his mind, giving his opinions because they actually matter to the listener. And Baekhyun doesn’t feel forced when he’s speaking; it’s a two-way dialogue with Jongin sharing his own thoughts.  
  
“What about you? What do you like about it?” asks Baekhyun. Even this, the simple act of asking questions, is not something he does. But it feels less and less foreign by the minute, and increasingly effortless the more he talks with Jongin.  
  
“I like the plot,” Jongin replies without a beat. “The notion of survival of the fittest. Regardless of friendships and love, the most important thing is to save yourself. If you don’t help yourself, who will?”  
  
There is an eerie kind of resolve in Jongin’s eyes as he talks of something so morbid—it’s as if he speaks with conviction, with faith. Like it’s a rule of thumb he lives by. It throws Baekhyun off and he doesn’t know how to respond.  
  
Luckily, he doesn’t have to as Jongin is beckoned over to the counter, putting their conversation to a halt.  
  
“Ah, I’m sorry—”  
  
“It’s okay,” Baekhyun finishes the barista’s sentence. He doesn’t miss the way Jongin’s eyes widen and how the sight warms his cheeks. “Duty calls. I understand.”  
  
Head tilted to the side, Jongin holds Baekhyun with an amused look. He gets up from the chair and smooths down the miniscule wrinkles in his apron.  
  
“Stick around for a little longer, will you? I get off in half an hour or so.”  
  
Baekhyun’s head moves up and down on its own, the same autonomy that tugs his lips into a smile as he watches Jongin stroll away.  
  
  
  
Jongin reappears at Baekhyun’s table at the promised time. He’s changed out of his uniform, sporting instead a simple black tee. Light wash denims hang on his hips loosely, hugging long legs previously concealed by the apron. He sets a mug down in front of Baekhyun before plopping down in the opposite chair. Baekhyun looks down into the mug that contains a brownish liquid, then looks up at Jongin.  
  
“What’s this?”  
  
“House Special,” replies Jongin as he leans forward, hands folded into a tent. He continues when Baekhyun hesitates to pick up the mug. “Try it, you’ll like it. I promise.”  
  
Jongin gives him an encouraging smile, and Baekhyun can’t find it in himself to say no.  
  
After just one tentative sip, not even his misanthropic tendencies could stop him from voicing how delectable it is, his eyes widening and hands gesturing with atypical excitement.  
  
“This tastes literally like heaven,” Baekhyun exclaims as he stares down at the coffee in amazement as if it’s a newfound treasure. Jongin laughs.  
  
“For a literature major, you sure are eloquent,” Jongin teases with a grin. Baekhyun huffs, cheeks puffed out around a pout. It only earns more laughter from the taller boy. He reaches across the table and Baekhyun freezes.  
  
“So cute.”  
  
Baekhyun’s cheeks feel like they’ve been set on fire and it’s not because Jongin pinched them too hard. Rather, it’s the mere fact that he pinched his cheeks at all, touched his face, fingers coming into physical contact with his skin. The last time anyone touched his face was his mother, and he had always associated the gesture with fondness, affectionate playfulness.  
  
Baekhyun gapes at Jongin who just looks at him guilelessly, head tilted to the side.  
  
“Y-you just… pinched my cheeks,” Baekhyun blurts out. He almost smacks a hand over his mouth as the words reach his own ears. He’s positive he just made something trivial into a big deal and Jongin is going to unfriend him and--  
  
“Is that so bad?” Jongin asks, his voice laced with guilt. “If you don’t like it, I won’t do it again.”  
  
Jongin looks down at his hands, worrying his bottom lip with a slouch in his shoulders. Baekhyun tries to swallow the lump that clings to the back of his throat so he could say something. So that Jongin wouldn’t look so scolded as if Baekhyun’s words had slapped him across the face.  
  
“No, no it’s not bad,” Baekhyun quickly assures him despite the uncertainty cinched to the last syllable. “I’m just not used to…” he trails off, the confession sitting heavy on the tip of his tongue. _Being touched affectionately. Being paid attention to. Being cared for.  
  
_ His sentence remains incomplete and he turns his eyes downward, staring at the wrinkled napkin that had somehow ended up in his hands.  
  
When he gingerly raises his eyes, Jongin is gazing at him with a sympathetic look. He puts his hand over Baekhyun’s, robbing the smaller boy of his breath. Baekhyun’s heart is drumming so loud he can barely hear Jongin as he speaks again.  
  
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”  
  
Looking at the disarming smile on Jongin’s face, Baekhyun nods. His heartbeat begins to lull as the warmth from Jongin’s skin seeps into his.  
  
He doesn’t take his hand away.  
  
  
  
Soon eight o’clock rolls around and the café is closing. Jongin urges Baekhyun to finish the coffee before they are shooed out of the shop along with the remaining customers.  
  
“Where do you live?” Jongin asks once they’re outside. The midsummer night breeze sweeps past softly, making the hairs on Baekhyun’s arms stand up. He shivers, hands coming up reflexively to cradle himself by his forearms.  
  
“I live in the 20th Ward,” Baekhyun answers timidly. He tries to not read too much into Jongin’s question. He probably asked out of courtesy, Baekhyun tells himself, eyes on the tip of his sneakers.  
  
“The 20th Ward? Isn’t that where the last ghoul incident was reported?”  
  
Baekhyun hums in assent. He doesn’t mention that he had been the victim.  
  
“It must be dangerous. I’ll walk you home,” Jongin offers. Baekhyun shakes his head lightly, even though it would be nice if Jongin did. He’s still a little shaken up by the assault, and before this, he had been thinking about using an alternate route—one with more pedestrian traffic—to get home.  
  
“It’s fine. Isn’t it out of your way?” Baekhyun says. Jongin had mentioned that he lives by the city hospital, which is located in the 22nd Ward. His hands are still on his forearms, unconsciously swiping away the goosebumps.  
  
“Are you cold?” Jongin watches him, a frown slipping in between his brows.  
  
“I’m fine,” Baekhyun mumbles, but his hands don’t stop rubbing. Jongin makes a sound of disapproval, then grabs Baekhyun’s hands.  
  
Baekhyun gasps.  
  
“W-what are you doing?”  
  
He struggles to pull away but Jongin keeps a firm hold on him, tugging him close. Jongin pulls Baekhyun’s hands up to his face, blows out a puff of warm air in between the palms, then rubs those small hands in his own larger ones.  
  
“Better?”  
  
Something flutters in Baekhyun’s stomach, strange tingles permeating deep inside him. It’s not just better; he is now so warm from head to toe it feels like he’s put on a jacket, though it’s just Jongin’s skin next to his and the way he looks at Baekhyun. Like Jongin cares. Like he matters.  
  
“Thank you,” Baekhyun says in a small voice. He considers drawing his hands back now that he is no longer cold, but it feels nice like this - Jongin’s hands around his. He stares at their hands with wonderment bubbling inside his chest—the sight is foreign to him and he tries to register it, commit it to memory in spite of the tremors that run through his fingers. Maybe Jongin notices it, too, because he squeezes Baekhyun’s hands together until they’re enclosed by Jongin’s larger set, Baekhyun’s thumbs peeking out.  
  
He looks up and finds Jongin smiling at him, warm and soothing just like his hands. Baekhyun’s lips quirk up halfway when he feels a drop on the tip of his nose.  
  
“Ah, it’s raining,” Jongin remarks, looking up into the sky. The rain comes down fast but Jongin’s faster, clutching Baekhyun around the shoulder and pulling the smaller boy into his side as he breaks into a run. Baekhyun tries to keep up; he doesn’t know where they’re going so he sticks to Jongin’s side and lets the taller boy tow him along.  
  
They finally stop running when Jongin skids under the eaves of a building, panting. Baekhyun bends over, resting his hands on his knees, breaths ragged.  
  
For a while, there’s only raindrops beating down on the ground and the sound of their labored breathing.  
  
Baekhyun straightens up when he thinks he’s recovered somewhat. He turns to Jongin and his eyes grow large at the other boy—he looks not much different from someone who just jumped into a pool with their clothes on.  
  
“You’re soaked,” says Baekhyun, concern spilling over his raspy voice. Jongin huffs out a short laugh.  
  
“You mean _we_ ’re soaked.”  
  
Baekhyun looks down. He picks at the front of his shirt sticking to his tummy.  
  
“Great,” he mutters, curling his fingers around the hem. He gathers a chunk of fabric and wrings out a mini waterfall.  
  
“Ah… I just realized we’re at my place. I ran here out of instinct...” Jongin begins, scratching his head. “But at least you can dry out until the rain lets up?”  
  
Baekhyun looks up. Jongin smiles at him sheepishly, shifting his weight from one foot to another.  
  
“I-I don’t want to be any trouble,” Baekhyun says quietly, averting his eyes. His wet clothes cling to him uncomfortably and he’s starting to feel cold, but he doesn’t want to intrude. He’s not sure if it’s even appropriate considering they’ve only known each other for a few hours.  
  
“It’s no trouble,” Jongin assures him. “And you’ll get sick if you don’t change out of those clothes.”  
  
Baekhyun hesitates. He watches the steady stream of rain. It seems like it’s just pouring harder. The idea of running all the way home in the rain becomes deplorable and he sighs in resignation, lips drawn into a tight pout.  
  
Jongin nudges him in the elbow. “C’mon, I won’t bite,” Jongin jokes.  
  
  
  
A few minutes later finds Baekhyun standing awkwardly in the entrance of Jongin’s apartment. Jongin tells him to make himself comfortable, but he refuses to move for fear of dripping all over the pristine hardwood floor. So he’s rooted to a spot at the threshold, still shivering from the rainwater that had soaked through his shirt, while Jongin goes inside to get some towels.  
  
Lifting his eyes from the damp footprints Jongin left on the floor, Baekhyun looks around the apartment. The whole place is immaculate except the kitchenette, where a wild assortment of baking tools scatter the countertops, the edges of used pans and spatulas poking out of the sink. Typical of a culinary student, Baekhyun thinks.  
  
What piques his interest and draws his feet forward is the large side-by-side refrigerator. The black stainless steel surface reflects a monochromatic version of himself as he stands before the refrigerator door, marveling at the technology. He’s never seen anything like this before. There are even two freezer drawers at the bottom, the aluminum handles sleek and shiny. He draws a finger across the top handle slowly.  
  
“Looks cool, doesn’t it?”  
  
Baekhyun’s finger jerks back upon Jongin’s voice behind him. He whips around and finds Jongin looking at him intently, lips crooked into a smirk.  
  
“I-I’m sorry,” Baekhyun stutters an apology, face flushed as he moves away from the refrigerator. “I was just curious.”  
  
He keeps his head down until Jongin steps forward, drags a towel off his shoulder. Baekhyun extends his hand but Jongin doesn’t give him the towel. Instead, he drapes it over Baekhyun’s head and tousles the fabric to dry his hair. Baekhyun blinks, the white cloth veiling his vision as his heart rate picks up for the umpteenth time that day.  
  
“I can show you what’s inside… later.” Baekhyun hears Jongin say over the faint swishing of the towel against his hair. The towel is peeled down to his shoulder and Jongin’s face reappears. He smiles at Baekhyun the same way as before, but his eyes seem… darker. When Jongin shifts under the light, his irises are shrunk and lined by maroon.  
  
Baekhyun thinks he must be imagining things. He drops his gaze when Jongin hands him a set of clothes.  
  
“Why don’t you dry up and change into these,” Jongin says in a tone uncharacteristic of the lighthearted barista that Baekhyun knows, a tone now dull and instructive. “The bathroom is over there.”  
  
He juts his chin toward a closed door and rests a hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder, steering him in the intended direction.  
  
Unease slowly settles into the bottom of his stomach, but he shrugs it off and complies anyway. Jongin is just concerned for him, doesn’t want him to catch a cold.  
  
  
  
After closing the bathroom door, Baekhyun unfolds the clothes Jongin handed him. He frowns.  
  
It’s just an overly large plain white t-shirt, worn and tattered. There’s no pants.  
  
He hesitates for a few beats before finally peeling the drenched fabric off his body and toweling dry. Despite the creases in his forehead, he presumes that Jongin doesn’t have any pants that fit him—Baekhyun is much shorter, after all. It’s just for a little while, anyway. He’ll be able to change back into his own clothes after they dry.  
  
He’s tugging the shirt down when the bathroom door flings open. Jongin steps in swiftly, narrowed eyes trained on the half-naked boy.  
  
“J-Jongin,” Baekhyun breathes out, fumbles at the shirt to pull it down to cover his upper thighs. He suddenly feels intolerably self-conscious that he’s not wearing anything on the bottom. “I’m almost d—“  
  
The word dies on his tongue when Jongin grabs the front of his shirt and yanks him forward, so harsh that Baekhyun crashes into a panel of Jongin’s solid chest.  
  
“It’s okay,” Jongin murmurs next to Baekhyun’s ear and the smaller boy shudders. “It won’t be necessary.”  
  
Arms snake around Baekhyun’s body, hands creep under his shirt and up his ribs. He draws a sharp breath and tries to push Jongin off.  
  
“Wh—“  
  
“Sorry, I just can’t wait any longer.”  
  
Jongin dips and drags his tongue up the side of Baekhyun’s neck and his eyes flutter close, a shaky sigh drifts from his lips. Baekhyun’s still shaking, but all strength and will to pull away dissolve when Jongin presses in and sucks his neck. Jongin moans against his skin and Baekhyun trembles as an unfamiliar heat stirs in his belly.  
  
“You taste delicious…” Jongin mumbles in between laps of his tongue at the dip above Baekhyun’s clavicles. “Just as I thought.”  
  
Jongin’s words skip over his mind quickly because his voice fades in and out as Baekhyun tries to process everything—the way Jongin’s teeth graze over his skin, leaving bites not enough to hurt but enough to make him arch his neck for more. Baekhyun thinks he shouldn’t be doing this and yet he yields readily to Jongin’s touch, slumped against the taller boy as his knees go weak and his hands find purchase on Jongin’s shirt.  
  
Jongin picks him up easily and then sits down on the toilet cover, hiking Baekhyun’s milky legs around his waist as he continues to nibble at the soft flesh of Baekhyun’s neck. Jongin pulls away only to drag the shirt Baekhyun’s wearing over his head, and Baekhyun doesn’t even protest even though he’s nowhere near ready for this and wants so badly to cover himself.  
  
Despite the undercurrents of panic that squeezes his chest, he can’t fight the fact that he’s attracted to Jongin. He’s not completely sure he’s ready, but he tells himself to calm down because it’s Jongin, a sweet, considerate boy who could never hurt anyone.  
  
So he raises his hands hesitantly and places them on Jongin’s shoulders. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do— _if_ he’s supposed to do anything, but something makes him lean forward with closed eyes and seek Jongin’s mouth.  
  
His lips press into Jongin’s cheek instead.  
  
Jongin makes a noise of distaste and Baekhyun opens his eyes, puzzled.  
  
“That’s not how it works, darling.”  
  
Baekhyun frowns, something ominous pooling in the pit of his stomach. He looks into Jongin’s eyes—they’re unusually dark, the irises now in a conspicuous shade of red.  
  
Something isn’t right, Baekhyun thinks as he tips back but Jongin’s arms bring him forward, pinning him in place with a tight hold. He squirms as Jongin slowly drags a hand from his chest down to his abdomen, a piercing gaze following the path his hand makes. It makes Baekhyun feel exposed, like a specimen laid under a microscope to be dissected and examined. Chills run up his spine when Jongin raises his eyes to Baekhyun’s face, looking at him fondly with an eerie smile.  
  
“You know,” Jongin begins as he grasps Baekhyun’s hand and pulls it toward his face. The gesture is so bizarre that Baekhyun stops struggling and stares blankly. “When I first saw you, I knew I had to have this.”  
  
Baekhyun watches with increasing mortification as Jongin holds his hand by the palm and licks a long, wet stripe up the index finger, swirling his tongue and sucking the digit as if it were a popsicle. A voice inside Baekhyun’s head screams at him to jump off Jongin’s lap and run away, but he’s completely frozen.  
  
“You have such pretty hands.”  
  
Baekhyun’s too shocked to register the pain as Jongin sinks his teeth into his flesh and tears off a large chunk of his index finger. Blood squirts from where his finger used to be, splashing bright red over Jongin’s face.  
  
Baekhyun’s scream sounds distant to him, like it’s coming from a horror movie playing next door.  
  
He slides off Jongin’s lap as the taller boy stands up, humming in satisfaction as he chews.  
  
Baekhyun can hear the sound of bone being ground under Jongin’s teeth. His bone.  
  
“Mmm. Wonderful. Just exquisite.”  
  
Whimpering and shaking uncontrollably, Baekhyun gapes as Jongin’s eyes transform into stark red irises surrounded by endless black. Jongin’s tongue darts out and runs over his lower lip, wearing a content look as if he’s just had a first taste of a rare delicacy.  
  
Baekhyun chokes on broken sobs as he struggles to get up, but he finds no strength in his legs. He crawls as fast as he can toward the door. Baekhyun tries not to look at his bloodied hand, the stump of his missing finger begging for his attention as he stretches out his arm. The wound still stings but the pain is blunted by a crippling fear that has repressed his senses.  
  
Baekhyun’s hands barely touch the threshold of the bathroom when his feet are picked up and he’s hauled back in, a crimson line sketching across the ivory tiles as his palms desperately cleave to the floor.  
  
“Hmm, where are you going? We’re not nearly done here.”  
  
Suddenly he’s flung to the wall, his head barely missing the ceramic sink as his back hits the cement hard. Baekhyun drops to the floor and winces as he lands on his forearm. For a moment he can’t feel anything, numbness spreading across his entire torso. Then there’s a stab of pain as he breathes, broken ribs jabbing into the muscle surrounding his lungs. Baekhyun shuts his eyes, tries to stomach the pain, to not give up just yet.  
  
“Aww, look what you made me do. I didn’t want to bruise you…” Jongin says as if he wanted to protect Baekhyun instead of lusting to rip apart his body with bare hands. Jongin steps over and crouches down, sitting on his heels as his finger traces Baekhyun’s tearstained cheek with a gentleness that contradicts his intention.  
  
“This perfect pale skin of yours… it deserves to be preserved. I wanted to have you join the others in my freezer. None of them is nearly as pretty as you, though. Or should I say _was_?”  
  
Baekhyun looks up to Jongin in horror, newborn tears prickling his eyes. Instead of a handsome boy with a beautiful smile, Baekhyun’s looking at the face of a monster. His own blood streaks across Jongin’s face, the sight so ghastly it surpasses Baekhyun’s worst nightmare.  
  
In that instant, hope flees him and leaves him cold in despair.  
  
Jongin flips him over onto his back, clutching Baekhyun’s calves as he leans over. With Jongin towering over him and those diabolical eyes assessing him like a predator with prey, Baekhyun quails in paralyzing fear. It’s getting harder to believe an escape still exists.  
  
“Please, Jongin,” he pleads as tears pour down his face and roll off trembling lips. “Please let me go.”  
  
Jongin tilts his head to the side, lowering his gaze to Baekhyun’s feet as he caresses the ankles.  
  
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Baekhyun,” Jongin says, face schooled into murderous steel. Baekhyun writhes, twists and turning, anything to pull back his feet. But Jongin’s hold is unbudging, merciless fingers digging into Baekhyun’s skin. “I didn’t spend all that time looking you up just for a tiny little finger.”  
  
Baekhyun shuts his eyes tight as Jongin flicks his wrists and curls his hands into Baekhyun’s ankles.  
  
But he feels no pain shooting up his legs. Instead, he hears a loud groan from the other side of the bathroom.  
  
Baekhyun sits up, opens his eyes and looks down. His feet are still there, intact and unbroken. A pool of blood edges toward him and his eyes track to the source.  
  
Jongin is slumped against the wall, streams of crimson oozing out over the hand pressing into his stomach. Jongin grimaces as he struggles to stand up, head hung low. There is a dent in the wall behind him where he had crashed, cracks branching out from the point of impact.  
  
Baekhyun blinks. What just happened?  
  
Jongin finally lifts his head and trains ghoulish eyes on Baekhyun’s face.  
  
“What the fuck?!” Jongin spits out, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth as he speaks. “I know you have a black belt in taekwondo, but this is ridiculous.”  
  
Baekhyun wonders the same thing himself, but the question perishes in his head when Jongin lunges toward him and Baekhyun’s eyes widen in panic, backing off, but it’s too late. An inhuman cry rips from his throat when Jongin claws at him……then something long and thick and blinding white swirls out from behind Baekhyun, plunging into Jongin’s torso and pinning Jongin to the wall.  
  
He gapes as the _thing_ digs deep into Jongin, twisting innards until Jongin chokes out spurts of blood.  
  
“You…”  
  
Jongin never finishes what he wants to say.  
  
As soon as his head falls lifelessly, the _thing_ releases Jongin’s body and retracts with a swish. Baekhyun watches with wide eyes as it disappears behind him. Into his back.  
  
He looks down at his hands. His right index finger is no longer missing.  
  
Swallowing a dry lump, Baekhyun tries to think despite his heart pounding in his ears. Pushing himself to his feet, he walks over to the mirror on wobbly legs. Breath hitches in his throat when he stares at his reflection.  
  
His left eye looks just like Jongin’s.  
  
And now Baekhyun knows what Jongin was going to say to him.

  
  
 _You’re not human_.  
  
  
  
  



End file.
